


Wrapped in Silk

by orphan_account



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Making Out, cross-dressing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-29
Updated: 2016-11-29
Packaged: 2018-09-03 01:45:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8691667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Yuuri skates for Viktor whilst wearing a dress.





	

**Author's Note:**

> A birthday gift to our favourite katsudon. Also, this is purely self-indulgent, and I have no excuses. And who tf knows how to spell Viktor's name?

Viktor has no idea what’s going on. He just wants to head back to the hotel room and cuddle Yuuri silly, but the shorter male is currently leading him to the ice rink.

“Surely you must be tired after the competition. How’s about we go rest?” Viktor suggests, but Yuuri only looks back at him with a smile, shaking his head.

His hair is still slicked back, and his cheeks still rosy red, but he has a gleam in his eye that shows he’s up to something. Yuuri takes Viktor’s hand, holding on firmly. “I want to show you something,” he states, fidgeting a little under Viktor’s scrutiny.

“At the ice rink?” Because surely it can be shown somewhere else, but Yuuri is adamant.

“Yes,” Yuuri nods. “I want to show you my free skate.”

Puzzled, Viktor scratches him head. “But I see your free skate pretty often.” At Yuuri’s teasing glare, Viktor backtracks. “I mean, I wouldn’t mind seeing it again, but surely some rest would be better,” he amends.

“I want to show you,” Yuuri repeats, and Viktor follows along because he’s a little bit curious as to what Yuuri has planned. More than a little bit. He’s actually very curious, but he won’t admit that. Not yet, at least.

Viktor has seen the free skate program time and time again, and as incredible it is to watch Yuuri skate it, he can’t even begin to understand why Yuuri’s dragging him off to the ice rink for that. After all, he sees it performed in competition enough anyway. Surely there’s something else planned.

Tucking a strand of stray hair behind Yuuri’s ear, Viktor leans in close. “Are you planning to surprise me?” He whispers, delighting in the way Yuuri shivers under his touch, his breath, his words.

“Yes,” he replies, the tip of his ears turning red, and Viktor hums.

Yuuri speeds up his pace, entering the building, and Viktor has to hurry to keep up. Yuuri’s obviously eager, and nervous, and it definitely peaks Viktor’s interest.  

“Wait for me at the rink,” Yuuri commands, and Viktor laughs, pecking a kiss on the younger’s flushed nose. Yuuri squirms away, but Viktor doesn’t miss the upward tilt of his lips before he manages to get out of Viktor’s grasp.

“I’ll wait,” Viktor agrees, and Yuuri heads to the changing room, a bag tucked close to his chest as if he’s guarding something valuable. There’s something inside it that he doesn’t want Viktor to see yet, and Viktor almost shakes in anticipation. It must be good if Yuuri wants to show it off so bad.

With quick steps, Viktor reaches the rink and waits, looking at the reflective sheen of the freshly-resurfaced ice as he leans against the barrier. The rink is deserted, and this is obviously planned by Yuuri. A surprise only for Viktor’s eyes.

It takes around fifteen minutes before the other male makes his appearance, and Viktor swears that his heart stops beating as Yuuri steps out. Eyes widening, he tries to drink everything in as quickly as he can, and then again, slower, savouring the moment. His eyes trail up Yuuri’s body, and Viktor’s fully aware that he’s licking his lips.

Yuuri looks back at Viktor, smiling shyly, and he steps onto the ice, striking his beginning pose, eyes looking directly at the Russian.

_Shit._

He can’t stop staring, and it seems that Yuuri’s perfectly aware of that as he winks in Viktor’s direction. _Winks._ What happened to the nervous boy from two seconds ago? It’s Yuuri, but also not. Erotic, stunning, beautiful. In a dress.

_In a dress._

It flows down his slender body like a waterfall, and his smooth skin shines under the fluorescent lighting. His eyelashes are darkened, curled, and fluttering over sparkling cheeks, and his lips are glossy and coral. Make-up applied with precision that Viktor wasn’t aware Yuuri possessed.

And then he starts skating, and Viktor’s entire world tunnels. Yuuri’s movements are smooth as his skates glide across the ice, and his arms reach out as if enticing Viktor, eyes trained on him. _Come closer,_ he seems to say so alluringly that Viktor has half the mind to stumble onto the ice and tackle Yuuri like he did that one time after his free skate in China.

He sees Yuuri, and everything around him fades away until there’s nothing else but them and the ice. It’s just Yuuri, the dress cascading down, pastel pink silk wrapping around his legs, his torso, his arms. His face, angled upwards, catches the light, and the highlight he must have applied earlier glows. Everything about the dark-haired male glows. He is one with the ice, with his skin, and his clothes. It’s not even a figure skating dress, yet Yuuri wears it like its sole purpose is to be worn on the ice.

He jumps, no, he _flies_ above the ice, rotating quickly and cleanly _._ A quadruple toe loop, followed immediately by a double toe loop, and he lands with extension, the dress flying and landing with him. There’s no stumble. There’s only grace, and Viktor is completely enraptured, immersed in the music that Yuuri creates with his body.

Yuuri’s arms reach above his head, and Viktor’s given a full view of Yuuri’s side, the pale pink bright against his pale skin, his ribcage expanding with eve inhale. His feet dance across the ice as if they were created to do just that, and he’s ethereal, twisting and turning, allowing the dress to dance with him as if it has a mind of his own, covering his skin in delicate fabric.

A quadruple salchow, the pink silk tumbling like rain, lifting up and showing Yuuri’s bare thighs to Viktor. His breath gets caught in his throat as he stares at the exposed skin, and Yuuri must know because he’s looking at Viktor with those eyes again, peering through long lashes with soft, brown eyes.

Spinning, spinning, spinning. A tornado of light colours fanning out, covering Yuuri in a blanket of pastel, drifting around his body with a purpose. He’s completely in control, but he’s also letting himself go. The spill of fabric, the gleam in Yuuri’s eye, and everything else has stolen Viktor’s beating heart from his chest.

He has never been so in love.

He has never felt love like this.

And Yuuri is laughing as he skates, a beautiful twinkling sound, stealing the air over and over again from Viktor’s lungs. He must be out of breath, skating and laughing at the same time, but he doesn’t stop, and Viktor doesn’t want him to. He never wants this to end.

A triple axel. Clean landing. Arms, reaching out to Viktor. Reaching for Viktor, and eyes holding a thousand words. This is a Yuuri that the world has never, and will never, see. This is a Yuuri who only skates for Viktor. Triple flip. Incredible. There’s not a moment of hesitation, and he makes it look so easy. A breeze from the dress brushes Viktor’s hair, and he presses a hand to where it touched, wanting to feel that breeze again. He wants to run his fingers through the dress, and then down Yuuri’s body. He wants Yuuri to spin and spin and spin, and watch as the dress twists and whirls around his body.

He completes the next combination jump flawlessly, and Viktor gapes because so far, all the jump have been beautiful, and the music, although not actually there, is so loud that it fills Viktor’s ear canals, making his heart beat in time with the piano. The dress is a part of Yuuri’s body, following his movements, soaring around him.

Another combination jump with perfect landings, and Viktor can’t tear his eyes away. He doesn’t want to look away.

_I’m watching…something new._

Yuuri moves into his step sequence, and he licks his coral lips, eyes fluttering as his hand reaches his face, extends, his feet moving faster and faster as silk pools, sticking to the sweat gathering on his skin before releasing, fluttering out like butterfly wings.

His back arches, arms up, body moving in an endless cycle of grace. His body is strong, but also delicate. Easy to shatter, breakable, but also empowered. It’s something that feeds Viktor oxygen as fast as it takes it away, giving him a breath of fresh air and then leaving him gasping.

He passes by Viktor, and it’s that same breeze again, but this time stronger. Yuuri’s skin is covered in sweat, and his hair is a mess, but he’s _beautiful._ His face is flushed. Really, his entire body is flushed, but he’s still skating, gliding, soaring. His limbs are synched with each other in perfect harmony, and the piano notes flood out in time with his blades against the ice. His fingertips, elongated, reach for someone.

_I’m here,_ Viktor wants to say, but there’s no need. Because Yuuri knows that Viktor will always be there. Knows that Viktor will never leave.

He prepares for his final jump, the pink trailing behind him like a wisp of smoke, tendrils soft and smooth. His bare shoulders catch the light over and over again, and his collarbones are on full display, chest heaving with breaths as his feet leave the ice and into the air. _A quadruple flip,_ Viktor notes in wonder. And even though Yuuri has done this before as the last jump, he has never landed it before. But he lands it this time, not a single wobble in his leg, and he allows himself to fly. Every time Viktor sees Yuuri skate, his expectations are destroyed and remade. His skates spin on the ice, faster and faster, and he twirls like a hurricane, wind exploding from him, colours made anew. His dress brushes against the ice as he goes into his sit spin, stroking the surface before exposing Yuri’s skin. His legs, his back. It’s dizzying, to see so much of Yuuri and to not be able to touch him.

Viktor knows his mouth is open, even as Yuuri strikes his final pose. He knows that his eyes are raking Yuuri over, and he knows that Yuuri likes it. Because he’s looking at Viktor, eyes trained on the older male, and Viktor doesn’t dare look away.

“Yuuri,” Viktor gasps, loving how the dress clings to his sweat-soaked skin. Loving how the mascara has smudged a bit under his eyes, and how his lipstick is practically gone. Loving how his hair is all over the place, and how his body is glistening as his chest heaves up and down.

“Viktor,” Yuuri breathes, equally out of breath. Even more so. He skates over to Viktor, and lets himself be held, their bodies colliding messily. “Did you like it?”

Viktor nods as Yuuri presses his face to Viktor’s shoulders, and he doesn’t know what to say. ‘Like’ is the bare minimum. It doesn’t even begin to describe the complete plethora of emotions overwhelming Viktor.

But Yuuri seems to understand, because Viktor can feel him smile as his body shakes in laughter. “I’m glad,” he breathes against Viktor, and the Viktor takes this opportunity to trail his hands down Yuuri’s body, feeling his hair, his skin, and the soft, sheer fabric of the dress. And then his hands go under the dress and Yuuri presses harder up against him, gasping as Viktor’s icy hands press against his warm skin.

Viktor’s fingers work quickly, down from the top of Yuuri’s spine to the bottom, dipping into his underwear. Yuuri shudders, fingers digging into Viktor’s back, and Viktor loves the reaction. Loves how the dress looks on Yuuri.

“Please wear this dress more often.” His voice is a rasp in Yuuri’s ear, and Yuuri’s laughing again, soft and breathless.

“Of course. Only for you.”

_Only for me,_ Viktor thinks, nibbling on Yuuri’s ear.

“You’re beautiful.” Viktor means it, with all his heart. Yuuri isn’t conventionally handsome, or manly, and Viktor knows that he doesn’t consider himself as sexy or attractive. But to Viktor, there’s no one more beautiful.

“Do you really think so?”

“Yes. _Yes._ Of course.”

Yuuri pushes up towards Viktor, and they stumble again before Viktor finds his footing, steadying them both. Gently, he takes a finger and tilts Yuuri’s chin up, allowing their lips to meet. Slowly, sweetly, softly. Yuuri’s lips are still soft from the lipstick, and Viktor can taste the scent of makeup. But even more so, he can taste Yuuri. Their lips move together, and they breathe together, and Viktor’s eyes flutter shut. He nibbles on the other’s lips, and Yuuri’s mouth parts, allowing Viktor to explore.

His tongue swipes against Yuuri’s, and the dark-haired male moans, letting Viktor kiss him harder, more demanding. Intertwined, he feels Yuuri’s hand tug at his hair, and Viktor runs his hands down Yuuri’s back, loving every twitch of muscle. Every part of their body is connected, and he knows that he’s falling, fast and hard, and he lets himself go until they’re literally falling to the floor, Viktor’s body on top, rolling his hips. Yuuri’s breathing comes in staccatos, every hitch of his breath having an effect on Viktor. His dress is completely lifted, his stomach exposed. What used to be covered in a layer of fat is now toned and flat, and Viktor finds that he doesn’t have a preference. He loves all forms of Yuuri’s body, moving down to kiss it, blowing softly on the skin as Yuuri’s back arches off the floor with a whine. Then their lips are connected again, this time hungrier, and they’re a mess of limbs and silk, Viktor’s coat long gone, shirt lifting up to expose his abdomen. He feels the breeze of the ice rink, and loves how Yuuri’s chest rises and falls against his own. One of his hands is carefully protecting the back of Yuuri’s head as they kiss, and the other is under the dress, pinching Yuuri’s nipples, swirling around his bellybutton, and then stroking the inside of his thigh.  

Yuuri licks Viktor’s lips, biting is gently, and Viktor returns the nip, deepening the kiss, slipping his tongue back into Yuuri’s mouth, delving in this time. Tasting the other. And everything is tunneling again until it’s only him and Yuuri. The floor disappears, the rink disappears, and it’s just their bodies, their lips, and the dress, shrouding them in soft silk.

“Stay close to me,” Yuuri whispers as their hands clasp together at some point, and as their lips finally separate. And anything else isn’t even option. Of course Viktor plans to stay close. After all, there’s nowhere else he would rather be. And if Yuuri wearing dresses starts to become a regular thing, well, Viktor’s definitely not complaining.


End file.
